Through the Iron Gates of Life
by MADAM BETH
Summary: CHAPTER 4 NOW UPWhile Jordan pulls a double at the morgue, Woody spends some time at the Pogue and learns about the Cavanaughs' past...
1. Default Chapter

"Let us roll all our strength and all 

Our sweetness up into one ball, 

And tear our pleasures with rough strife

Through the iron gates of life." 

                                    --Andrew Marvell 

                                                from "To His Coy Mistress" 

                                                Through the Iron Gates of Life

            Figures. Jordan and I made plans to go out for some platonic Tex-Mex and she ended up having to pull a double. Talk about star-crossed. Well, at least_ North and South of the Border's _was open till two. With a sigh, I dismally told Jordan that I would meet her at the Pogue after her shift was through. She nodded and hurried back into the morgue, leaving me to watch her hop quickly up the stairs from the curb.

'Well' I thought, 'at least she is moving fast in hopes of getting out earlier.' 

I smiled hopefully then glanced down at my watch. It was quarter of six. I sighed heavily and let my head slump backwards and stared at the twilight sky. It was gonna be a long 6 hours. 

I sauntered into the Pogue, the familiar jingle of the doorbells announcing my arrival. I looked tranquilly towards the bar, at the regulars and the obvious tourists and a calming warmth spread across me as a feeling I had only recently been recognizing as home tingled down my spine. I had always felt welcomed here but it had always felt in the beginning like I was the free agent who joined the World Series team halfway through the following pre-season.  But as I was accepted further and further into this family ( and there is no one in the world who can convince me that a family isn't exactly what it is) I began to identify less with the tourist, keeping to himself at the end of the bar, and more with the regulars who have a beer waiting for them on the counter before their butts can even warm the round leather cushion of the stools they perch themselves on. 

Max throws me a nod and wordlessly sets a frosty Heineken down on the bar. I smile and nod to the regulars as I settle myself onto the chilly seat. Without any other sort of greeting, Max begins a conversation with me. 

"Thought you and Jordan were going out for a bite after work." He says pouring a glass of that Sam Adams lager all the tourists feel obligated to drink. 

I take a sip of my beer and nod as I let the icy brew bubble down my dry throat. 

"Still are. She's working a double so 'a bite after work' means 12 am at _North and South's_." I say and don't even bother to hide my disappointment. Max has known me for a good two years; he's got my number as far as where I stand with regards to my feelings for Jordan. 

He pats the hand not wrapped securely around the perspiring green bottle and winks at me. 

"Don't worry boy," he says setting the freshly poured Sam wordlessly in front of one of the tourists. "If my Jordan is willin' to go out for some heartburn in a pita after midnight with you, you've already got one foot in that little door to her heart. Besides," he says leaning over the bar, whispering softly. "Jordan doesn't smile at anyone the way she smiles at you. Never has, and I would bet this bar you've never followed any other girl around with that look in your eyes before." I sat up a little straighter concern for how Max might respond clearly displayed on my face. 

I just smiled and looked down at my beer shyly. I shook my head and sighed. 

"I've been tongue tied since the first time I met her. Most of the time I finish a conversation with her then turn the corner and smack myself in the forehead for sounding like such a Neanderthal." I said and Max laughed the laugh of a man who's been there and back. 

"Tell me about it." He said refilling a bowl of peanuts. " The first time I met Jordan's mother…I thought I might die of embarrassment trying to fake like I wasn't some bad-assed, Southie… punk, street hood." He looked off over the bar, a memory playing like a movie in front of his eyes.  

I chuckled nervously and looked over near the cash register at the small, framed picture of Jordan's mom sitting comfortably on the shelf right under the register. 

"I can see why…she was beautiful." I said eyeing the picture respectfully as Max turned and gently took it from its resting place to admire. He looked it over with a sad smiled on his lips then sighed. 

"That she was. Inside and out. You know most people thought her running off and marrying me at 18 was just to rebel against her VERY privileged back ground. Maybe that was some of the lure, but I have no doubt in my mind that she married me more for love than anything else in the world. Love was just about all I had to give her." He said then remembering something, chuckled. "Well…love and that precious little baby girl." He said and set the picture down on the counter between us with a smile. 

I tried to bring him out of his musings a little. "So you said before that Jordan's always been this way…this…independent?" I asked leaning forward on the countertop. Max just nodded and tore his eyes painfully away from the picture. He chuckled at my eagerness to hear about Jordan's past, and his own. 

"Emily was in labor for 32 hours with Jordan." He said and I gave a whistle of surprise. "The doctor's were baffled. She let her mother dilate to 8 centimeters then decided she wasn't ready yet. She was gonna come at her own time and she was NOT gonna let anyone hurry her along. That's always been her way…" He said smiling. 

"Now the looks, I won't lie, she certainly got from her mother…but that stubbornness and that…that mouth…well, I'm proud to say she got from her old man." 

April 1953 

"HAA! Fork it over Blackie!" thirteen-year-old Max Cavanaugh hollered unnecessarily at his best friend who was only maybe 2 feet away from him. 

Blackie sighed angrily and scooped up his father's emerald green gambling dice from where they lay against the brick alley wall Max had just thrown his 4th straight "7" against. When he had re- straightened his body, and flipped his curly black bangs out of his eyes, Max was standing right beside him, one filthy palm held expectantly out waiting for 2 dollar bills to be laid in it. Blackie sighed again and reached into his pocket producing 4 wadded up bills. He took out two single bills and held them up, allowing them to drop into Max's hand. Just as the second bill was floating into Max's paw, Blackie took a jab at his jaw and Max's head snapped backward, his light blond hair whipping with the force. Max allowed the bills to fall to the ground and smiled as he wiped the blood from his lip. 

"You crazy bastard Mc!" Max said chuckling as he raised his fists and pushed up the sleeves of his thermal shirt. Blackie smiled in return and cracked his knuckles, rolling up his own sleeves as he gave Max a second to pocket the two bills. 

The boys began to laugh as they circled each other, jabbing and hopping back and forth as they had seen the real boxers do for almost every Saturday night of their lives to that point. They laughed and carried on before the two newly made teens bored of their childish game, sat down on some wooden crates and Blackie pulled out a pair of thin stogies. 

Max's eyes light up with forbidden joy. "Jumpin' Jesus Christ, Blackie! Where the hell'd ya get em'?" Max asked reaching excitedly for the cigar. Blackie held them both out of his reach and took his time striking a match on the crate and taking a few starter puffs before giving Max an explanation. 

"Where da ya think!?" He said around the cigar. Max swiped the second out of his friend's hand and held it out for Blackie to light with the remaining timber he had allowed to burn down nearly to his fingers.

"Pap's on Broad?" Max asked expectantly and Blackie nodded once quickly. Max thought of something else and a coy smile played across his face. He removed the cigar from his lips and let the thick smoke creep over his lips like a polluted fog. 

"Pay for em'?" Max asked and Blackie looked off down the alley for a moment before answering. 

"Sure," Blackie said removing his own cigar from his lips. "With my dashin' good looks and witty charm." He said lounging back against the wall with his still boyishly thin arms folded behind his head. Max just smiled and shook his head. 

"I could never do it…I'd piss myself before I could even cop em'." He said with an honesty young men only use around their closest friends. Blackie nodded. 

"That's what makes us different me and you. You can be bad only when someone else is doing the being bad part for ya…I on the other hand could steal the silver spoon outta one of them Vineyard kids mouths and be halfway down the street still listening to em' crying in their carriage, already thinkin' about how much I might get for the silver." He said and Max nodded sadly, the realization of just how far apart the lines he and his friend had drawn in the sand really were.


	2. Hunger and Horror

Chapter 2: Hunger and Horror 

Boston: Present Day

"Damn," I said shaking my head. "You palled around with Blackie Conroy." I couldn't help it. Blackie Conroy is one of, if not the best known, mobsters is the city and maybe the country. And Max was his childhood friend. I suddenly wondered aloud what had made two such close friends choose such different paths in life. 

"Son, the Blackie I knew was no murderer. A thief, yes. A liar, for sure…" Once again, Max was lost in a memory. "But the Blackie I knew as a boy was not someone who would take a life. Hell, he saved mine on more than one occasion." Max continued to stare out over the softly lit room. 

South Boston, 1956

Max Cavanaugh had grown into his lanky frame and built up a pair of tight, sinewy, muscular arms that framed his prominent chest well. He wore a thick Navy pea coat handed down to him by an older cousin who had fought in the war. Max didn't care if it was second hand though, it was warm against the winter chill and chicks dug a guy in a Navy coat. As he hurried into the warmth of the corner pub and his eyes watered from the sudden change of bitter cold to inviting warmth, he felt several sets of eyes turn slowly on him from a familiar booth in a back corner. He nodded silently to one of the 4 young men sitting in the booth and after a brief word with the others in the booth, Blackie Conroy slowly rose and came to the front of the pub where Max was removing his jacket and scarf.   
  


"He here?" Max whispered sharply and Blackie responded with a curt nod as Max hung his scarf over top of his jacket. The young friends exchanged faintly worried, entirely excited glances before Max took a deep breath and followed his friend to the booth. Blackie slipped into the bench quickly and Max followed. 

"Whitey…you remember my pal Max right?" Blackie squeaked at one of the two dark figures sitting across from he and Max. The figure leaned forward into the light and his cold, dark eyes twinkled with that eerie charm all bad men seem to possess. He was older than Max and Blackie. Not considerably older in years, but in criminal deeds he was lifetimes older than the 16 year olds who sat before him. Whitey Bulgar was going to be the head of the Boston Mob before he even hit middle age. No one doubted it, and no one was surprised when it actually happened several years later. But even as a 20 something mob Enforcer, Whitey radiated power. The boys held his gaze as steadily as they could and Whitey smiled mischievously at them. 

"So Max, Blackie here says you might be interested in a position with the Office. I've been watching you fellas since you was nothin' but a coupla little Boosters, but you were good little Boosters." He said eying Max carefully, searching the depths of his young, vibrant blue eyes for the true color of the soul behind them. 

Whitey sat back and took a long drag on his cigarette.   
 "So…do you think you're cut out for it Kid?" He asked and Max shifted his gaze from Whitey to his fidgeting buddy beside him. 

When Max didn't answer, Whitey smile admiringly and nodded his head as a cloud of smoke silently escaped his lips. 

"I'll give you some time to think about it…but think hard kid, think hard." He said crushing out the butt in the amber ashtray beside him as the still silent accomplice beside him slipped suddenly from the booth and Whitey slipped out himself. Neither man looked back at the table as they swaggered out the back door of the bar and a chill ran down Max's spine. He couldn't tell if it was from the winter chill that had snuck in past the two men, or the men themselves. In the back of his still juvenile mind, Max half imagined that even the bitter Massachusetts winter would cower at the sight of Whitey. He turned back to Blackie and sighed heavily. 

"How come you didn't say nothing?" Blackie asked lightly hitting at Max's wrist. Max just shook his head.   
  
"I dunno….there's just something that don't feel right about this." He said glancing back at the door. Blackie looked at him, exasperated. "

"Are you looped!? Something doesn't 'feel right' about never havin' to worry about money for the rest of your life!? About…never having to worry about being roughed up on the streets again? Never havin' to worry about fillin' our stomachs…or…or having a roof over our heads? Max, you're folks would be taken care of, your mom could live in a nice place on the other side-a the tracks…" All of this tempted Max and he remembered suddenly what had made this offer so enticing in the first place.

Max just nodded to Blackie and said once again that he needed to think about it. 

"See that's your problem, Max…you think too much…" Blackie said frustrated as he slipped out of the booth and Max hurried past him to the front door. Max turned thoughtfully as he suited up to go back outside.   
  
"And your problem is that you don't think enough, Blackie." He said as he pushed open the door and headed out into the cold. 

As Max turned the corner of his street, he caught sight of his family's quaint South Boston row home. He reached the front steps to the porch and dodged the array of sleds, shovels and snow clothes his younger siblings had left there in a dash for the dinner table. Max pulled the door open gently and four smaller, toe-headed children descended upon him from the staircase in front of him. They were jabbering away at their oldest brother, inquiring into his daily activities while simultaneously describing there day of snow play. Max smiled and patted each one on the head, customarily scooping the youngest, Megan up into his arms and carried her through the house with him. His parents sat in the kitchen at the table and they welcomed their oldest child home. 

"Hey! How ya doin' boy?" his father asked around a large cigar as he paged through the daily Globe sitting on the table in front of him. 

Max nodded and set the weekly earnings from his job at the docks down on the dirty gray newspaper. His father smiled subtly but appreciatively at his son and patted his hand. He smiled at his baby girl perched on Max's hip and tickled the bottom of her stocking foot. She giggled and Max set her down on the floor where she waddled off to her mother. Max nodded at his father and took the seat next to him and waited for his father to routinely pass him the section of the paper he had finished with. When he finally slid the paper over Max took it casually and leaned back balancing his chair on two legs and spreading the paper out across his strong legs. His father watched him out of the corner of his eye and a proud smile crept across his lips. Max caught the scrutiny and glanced back before returning his attention to the sports scores. 

"How was work?" his father asked clearing his throat and using his left hand to flip back his own shaggy blonde bangs. Max nodded slowly and glanced playfully at his mother standing at the stove with Megan now on her own hip. 

"Cold." Max said with a grin and his mother smiled as she turned and set a hot bowl of soup and a large piece of French bread down in front of him. Max quickly pushed the paper aside and disregarding the shiny utensils within reach of his hands, Max grabbed the chunk of bread and used it to scoop the broth hungrily into his mouth. His father chuckled and reached over to muss his hair. 

The younger children rushed like a tornado into the room bent on dragging Max out to watch television with them. 

"Come on Max! We wanna watch tv and we ain't allowed to turn it on by ourselves!" his 9-year-old brother Davey whined pulling at Max's shirt sleeve. Max shooed him off in the midst of trying to swallow a sopping piece of bread. 

"I'll be in soon, find something to do till then." He said and the children obediently filed out of the room. Max chugged down a large glass of warm milk and then stood from the table with a satisfied belch and strode into the other room, his father's cheerful laugh behind him. 

"You're welcome!" his mother called as he went to the box and turned on the television. 5-year-old John sat dutifully beside the T.V. his small hand poised on the dial awaiting orders to change the channel. After a few minutes of a show the bunch lost interest and instructed John to turn the dial which he was pleased to do. When the next program was of little interest to John, he took it upon himself to change the channel. 

"Hey! I was watching that!" 12-year-old Frank hollered obnoxiously from the couch. He jumped to his feet before Max could scold him and dove at the dial. He pushed John out of the way and changed the channel back.   
  
"Leave him be Frankie." Max said tired and irritable. Frank ignored his older brother and pushed John once more as he returned to the couch. John had had enough of the bullying and sat up angrily and switched the channel back again. Max rolled his eyes, too tired to prevent what was coming and sighed heavily as Frank's head whipped around and he dove back at the television and snapped the dial angrily back. John countered and switched it again. Frank shoved him and changed it back just as a bright flash and a loud pop signaled the shorting of the tube in back of the large box. Max sighed heavily and all of the children suddenly quieted and stared blankly at the now dark screen. 

"God Damn it, Frank!" Max hollered angrily as a renewed strength caused him to stand from the couch. 

"Maxwell! I didn't just hear you take the Lord's name in vain did I?" his mother called from the kitchen and Max avoided the question. 

  
"Frank and John were screwin' with the box and the tube blew." He called angrily and headed for the door to grab his coat. 

His father came to the kitchen door and handed Max a few dollars to pick up a new tube at the hardware store. John and Frank wordlessly followed Max in dressing for the cold, fully aware that it would be their combined monthly allowance that would pay for the new tube, and followed him out the door after one last stern look from their father. 

Boston: Present Day

"So did you beat them senseless when you got out the front door?" Woody asked taking a second sip of his chilled new drink. Max just smiled and shook his head. 

"I wasn't allowed to lay a hand on any of those kids and I knew I'd hear about it if I did. They understood what needed to be done though." Max said filling a few glasses and handing them over the counter to a barmaid. 

"So what did they do?" Woody asked trying to imagine what his own younger brother might have done in the situation. 

"They didn't say a word. They knew better than to bicker on the way, it was too cold to speak anyway. We walked to the hardware store and I handed Frank the money and John the old tube so he could more easily compare it to the others and get the right size tube. I tucked my hands under my arms and waited for them to come back out."

South Boston: 1956                

Frank and John dashed to the back of the store, knowing that the faster they got out and home where it wasn't so cold, the less mad Max would be about having to stand outside. They were actually pretty sure Max's standing outside was solely to encourage their speediness. They paid for the new tube and turned towards the door; where they saw a local well-known booster watching Frank place his change in his coat pocket. The two young boys subtly turned towards the back door exit and headed for it. They didn't sense the older boy following them out. 

Max was standing outside the hardware storefront, his toes gradually losing all feeling and the exhaustion of school and work finally becoming nearly unbearable. He huffed and muttered some inappropriate things about his young brothers as he slipped into the front door of the store. The store-keeper, a friend of Max's father, quickly signaled to Max that they had left through the back which let Max know that there was trouble. He nodded and hurried back out into the cold. 

Max slipped along the wall of the store, now almost oblivious to the biting cold. He heard the muffled voices of his younger brothers as well as a slightly older voice he didn't recognize. He peeked around the corner and watched the boys' body language. Frank stood protectively in front of his young brother. The older boy stood uncomfortably close to the two. He was shifting from foot to foot, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his large coat. Max couldn't tell if he was carrying a weapon or not, but at that point it didn't matter; this kid was threatening his brothers. He had to defend them. 

"There a problem here boys?" Max asked casually as he stepped into the light of the alley. 

The boy turned to Max with a slight jump and stared him down with a cool smile. 

"No problem Cavanaugh. Just a little exchange of finances between my boys here and me, nothing for you to be concerned with." He said casually. Max couldn't place his name but he knew the boy was about his age. 

"Well, actually those are MY boys there so it DOES concern me." Max said stepping closer to the little crowd. 

The boy sighed and looked menacingly at John and Frank before turning his head back to Max. 

"And I thought you might be cut out for this line of work…you're disappointing a lot of people Max." He said almost in a singsong voice. 

Max stepped forward once again and was now nearly nose-to-nose with the little thief. They eyed each other coolly and finally the other boy looked away. 

"Well, I don't wanna upset anyone…see ya around boys." He said over his shoulder still looking at Max. 

"And I'm sure I'll DEFINITELY be seeing YOU around Max." he said and walked backwards away from Max towards Frank and John. Max lowered his eyes to his brothers and gave them a half hearted smile, assuring them it was okay now. But in taking his eyes off of the other boy, Max had made a fatal mistake. The boy took the opportunity to slide a knife out of his pocket and in what seemed like barely a second, grab 12-year-old Frank by the shoulder and plunge the cold knife into his side. 

"You son of a Bitch!!!" Max screamed as the boy took off running down the street, each snow-crunching step being stored in Max's head so he might later hunt the boy down.  Max dove towards his younger brother and pulled him into his lap. Blood pooled hot and dark in the pure white snow, as John looked horrified down at the carnage. Max began to cry out of frustration at his inability to make things better. He was always the one to pick up the younger ones and dust off their knees. But there was no amount of dusting that would save Frank. Max watched as his face paled and his eyes glazed, a few hot tears squeezed past his lids. Max searched the area for someone to help. He screamed at John to go find help and after a few stunned seconds, John took off down the opposite side of the alley. 

Max sat holding Frank and ordering him to stay with him and not to sleep. It seemed like an eternity before he finally saw John pulling a tall dark figure behind him as he hurried down the street. When they finally reached Max and Frank, the man gently took Frank from Max and lifted him into his strong arms after removing his heavy coat and wrapping it around Frank's shivering body. It was then that Max noticed something shiny on the man's coat and realized what it was. It was a badge. Max swung his head around to the man's face as the three raced down the street to the corner where there was a street light. The officer set Frank down and began to question Max as to what happened. Max felt no fear of trusting this police officer as he had felt with every cop he'd ever been picked up by. This man wanted to help save his little brother. He spilled to him about the television, and the fighting, and the tube blowing because of the boys and making them come to buy a new one. The officer must have detected the guilt in Max's voice and he laid a reassuring hand on Max's shoulder and handed him his police hat so he could better take a look at Frank. Max held tightly onto the hat, his fingertips tracing nervously over the dark, shiny brim as they waited for an ambulance to arrive. 

The officer talked to Frank, comforted little John and reassured Max the entire time they waited. When the van finally arrived, the officer wisely held Max and John back from riding along with them. He picked up little John as if he were his own child and carried him to his cruiser, all the while assuring him that his big brother would be okay. Max stood on the corner, watching the ambulance pull away and cried. He didn't care if the cop thought he was a baby right then, he just let all of his anger release in a string of sobs that wracked his body and caused him to slump to the ground under the streetlight. A shadow appeared at his side and when Max looked up, the cop was standing beside him, a large fur lined police coat held open in front of him. Max looked down and wiped his eyes. 

He felt himself being lifted to his feet as the jacket was placed around his shoulders and the officer guided him to the car where John sat quietly in the front seat. He guided Max into the back seat and closed the door after him. 

"So Cavanaugh, what's it like to be in the back of a cruiser without worrying that you're going to jail?" The officer asked with a playful smile as he headed towards the Cavanaughs'. Max allowed himself to smile slightly for the first time since the stabbing. He knew his brother was going to be fine, the cop wouldn't have joked with him otherwise. He snuck a peek at the man's pleasant eyes in the rear view mirror and then looked down at the hat still clutched in his hands. He ran his fingers over the hard badge attached to the front of it and mused that maybe cops weren't all that bad after all. 

Boston: Present Day

I could only sit there at the bar, my mouth hung open and my right hand still clutched tightly around my warm, forgotten beer. 

"Jesus…did…did he make it?" I asked and Max raised his eyebrows with a smile. 

"Sure, he was alright. My mother said St. Jude was right by the boy's side that night. Though a lapse Catholic as I am, I think I have to agree with her on that one." He said wiping off the bar and shaking his head like he still couldn't believe that his brother had survived. 

I sighed in relief and nodded. I think I would have to agree with his mother on that one as well. 

"So what happened? You find out who the kid was?" I asked and Max nodded casually as he cleaned some glasses. He looked from the stack of dirty beer mugs to me and back. 

"Well…I dunno…maybe if some helpful young detective would hop back here and help me clean some glasses I might be willing to satisfy his curiosities?" He asked with a smirk. I smirked right back and stood from my stool as Max smiled and lifted the counter flap and I stepped back behind the bar with him.  Max handed me a glass and a dishtowel. 

"Well of course I found out who the kid was! I told ya I recognized the little bastard didn't I?" Max said and I rolled my eyes. 

"So…who was he?" I asked and Max suddenly grew more serious as he reflected back on that dark period of his life.

"Well, I guess you can gather that the night Frank was stabbed was the night I decided to become a cop, right?" He asked and I nodded confidently. Max handed me another glass and stared down into the bottom of the glass he was cleaning. 

Boston 1956

"Max! Blackie's here to see you if you're finished with the dishes!" Max's mother's voice called from the family room. He sighed and set the last glass on the drying rack. 

"Coming!" he called back and threw the rag on the sink after drying his hands with it. He cautiously entered the family room and headed straight for the door. His mother moved away into the kitchen as Max stepped outside to speak with Blackie. 

The boys exchanged uncomfortable smiles. 

"Well, now I know to get you some new dishtowels for Christmas 'Maxine'." Blackie said cautiously and Max nodded with a half-hearted smile and leaned against the large wooden door. 

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Blackie spoke. 

"I'm sorry about Frankie, Max. How's he feelin'?" he asked sincerely and Max took a deep breath before looking out over the still snow-covered streets. 

"Better…thanks for asking." Max said and a few more seconds passed. "It was one of Whitey's boys, Sean." Max said in the most adult tone he had used in his life to that point. Blackie seemed surprised by Max's use of his real name, but he understood Max's intention to show him how serious this was.

"Yeah, I suppose it was." Blackie said looking off in the direction Max was looking. 

"So?" Max asked expectantly, waiting for the delicious revenge plot he was sure his best friend was cooking up in his head right then. Instead, Blackie just looked at him blankly. 

"So….what?" Blackie asked stepping away from Max closer to the end of the porch. Max was speechless for a second. 

"So WHAT!?" Max yelled, leaping forward so that he was right in Blackie's face. "Eye for an eye is WHAT, Blackie!! I want that little prick to feel the cold blade of a knife in HIS side and I want the man who ordered him to put it in my brother to feel that blade too!!" Max hollered and punched the railing of the porch. Blackie backed up once again. 

"I…I can't help you there Max, this…this…attack was strictly business…I can't make nothin' personal of it." He said raising his hands helplessly. Max was appalled. 

"That dirty Mc, rat bastard Capone-wanna be tried to beat me into workin' for him by putting a knife through my little brother's ribs! It was business when we talked in the bar! It became personal when he went after MY FAMILY!!" Max all but screamed in Blackie's face. 

Blackie shook his head silently and sadly. He looked down at the ground. 

"I…I told you Max, we're different you and me." He said and Max scoffed. 

"More now than ever." Max said bitingly. Blackie looked up into his friend's face. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He asked angrily and Max got closer to his face. 

"It means…that…that when you see Whitey or one a his lackies beatin' on someone…you have this…this hunger in your eyes. Like it's a Saturday night fight or somethin' and you're always rootin' for the bad guys! Maybe a few years ago I mighta been that way…but now…the only thing you'll see in me when I watch them guys roughin' up somebody…is horror! I've almost felt that pain of loss! I've felt it scratchin' at my back door! And I don't ever wanna be responsible for makin' anyone else feel that loss!" Max screamed and pushed Blackie off his porch into the street. Blackie almost lost his balance, but he just slipped across the dirty slush. He didn't try to fight back, he just looked at Max for a long second before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking off down the street. Max watched him until he was out of sight and then turned and went back into his house, throwing the deadbolt as he did. 


	3. Payback

Chapter 3: Payback 

            In a matter of three weeks Max had been alienated from some of his closest friends. They stopped coming around his house anymore, ignored him at school, hurried past him on the docs where most of them spent their afternoons earning some income for their lower middle class families, and all because Max had made a choice to change the path his life was taking. Means justifying the ends no longer made sense to him. He looked at his father, hardened by seasonal, unreliable work in construction and factories in a new light. He had always respected his father but had also always wondered why his father never accepted offers to work in "the Office" as the Boston Irish Mob was called. It meant a nice house, good food, good shoes on all the kids and security for the rest of his life. But it also meant a lot of dirty work. Max's father was an honest, hardworking man. He would have thought it disgraceful to provide for his family by destroying the families of so many others. Like Hamlet's mother, he would have handed bills to a storekeeper and seen the blood of those who died for it dripping from the worn green edges. 

When I asked Max how he was able to gain the trust of those in law enforcement after such a…street wise childhood, Max just smiled and looked across the bar counter to the picture of Jordan's mother we had admired hours ago. 

Boston: 1959 

Max Cavanaugh huffed and puffed his way home from work. It was some of the worst heat the city had ever known and though the walk home wasn't far, his house seemed like a speck; an unreachable mirage where his mother stood on the step smiling, a pitcher of lemonade extended toward her son's waiting, sunburned hands. He grabbed a blue handkerchief from the back of his overalls and mopped it over his sweaty brow in almost the same pattern as he mopped the sticky, smelly docks every day. He often wondered if he didn't make mopping motions in his sleep. He would have to talk one of the boys into watching him a night or two just to satisfy his curiosity. '

John would probably do it', he mused as he dragged himself down the street, a tin lunch pail bouncing against his aching legs as he trudged down the bumpy brick sidewalks of his town. 

Just as his house was becoming larger then a speck, Max heard a young woman's scream from the back of the row of homes across the street to his left. He stopped instantly, a chill running down his spine in spite of the humid air. He listened for it again. 

"Please!! Help!! Someone Help!!" Max didn't even think. He dropped his pail and nearly leapt across the street with his 19-year-old, six foot five body. He was at the alley behind the houses in a length of time that would probably break the world record and he charged, hollering at the younger, weaker boy he was sure he could hammer like a railroad spike into the ground. The boy spun on his heels from where he stood pressing a young woman against the hot brick wall. Max only chased the boy to as far as where the girl was still pressed against the wall in shock. Max looked down at the ground in front of him when a putrid smell hit his nose. He almost had to suppress a smile when he realized the puddle a few inches from his feet couldn't be from rain, as Boston hadn't had any in nearly a week. 

He hurried to the aid of the young woman and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. 

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asked heaving to catch his breath. 

The girl nodded, her breath escaping in ragged gasps as the terror of what might have happened to her was slowly dawning on her. Max told her to take a deep breath and that he didn't imagine the boy would be back anytime soon unless he had a dry pair of shorts sitting on the step around the corner for him. The girl steadied herself on Max's arm. She assured him that she was not hurt and Max just nodded and allowed her a minute to gather herself. 

"Thank you…thank you so much…I …I …can't imagine what might have come of me if you hadn't shown up." Max raised his eyebrows and muttered, 

"Unfortanately, I CAN imagine, miss." Max said and began to walk slowly down the alley, steadying the girl with one large arm. 

The girl's breathing began to steady. Max looked her over, checking to make sure she was definitely okay as well as sizing her up. He was a young man after all. She wore a knee length sundress and clean white sandals. The dress was as yellow as the lemonade Max had been fantasizing about and it fit her in what his dad would say were, ' all the right places'. Her hair was raven black and Max entertained the thought that if she were Irish, she was most definitely that Black Irish he had always heard about, but saw little of in his neighborhood. And since he was thinking about it, Max deduced that by her appearance and accent, she was most definitely not from his side of town. 

"So what brought you down to this part of town if you don't mind me asking Miss?" Max asked kindly as they continued down the alley and back out onto the main street. Max scooped up his lunch pail but continued to hold onto the girl's arm. 

"is it that obvious that I'm from up town?" She asked shyly, her eyes still moist from crying. Max just smiled and looked her over. 

"Uh huh." He said and they both chuckled, the ice now officially broken. 

"Max Cavanaugh." He said taking her hand softly in his large rough one. "The watchdog of South Boston." He said with a wink and tipped an imaginary hat to her. The girl smiled.

"Emily Burns." She said sweetly, "And thank you again Max, you may have saved my life back there." Max shrugged his shoulders. 

"I think that's stretchin' it a little. Your innocence, yes. Your life…I don't think he woulda killed you…just some little punk kid who can't talk to girls." Max said with a pained smile. Emily just nodded slowly. 

"Well, in any case…thank you Max." She said and then asked if Max would walk her home. Max's thoughts returned to that pitcher of lemonade and he suggested that maybe he just take her to his house and let her call her parents from there. 

"Oh…my father's going to kill me…though it's his own fault I ended up running out like I did…you see…he wouldn't allow me to go visit one of my girlfriends until my summer reading was finished for the day…so we were going to all meet down here where he'd never expect and well… He's very strict about academics and all…"She said and Max smiled, the recognition of her name finally occurring to him. 

"Well, I imagine he would what with being the headmaster at Harvard and all." He said with a smirk and Emily, shocked that Max hadn't said anything, swatted his arm playfully. 

"Why didn't you say anything?!" she asked teasingly and Max smiled. 

"Your name just now dawned on me when you mentioned your 'strict, academic roots'. I've heard your family's name in the paper from time to time." Max said playfully as they neared his yard. Emily laughed nervously and looked down at her feet. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to not tell you… I just…it isn't important. I don't want people to like me just because of who my father is…or hate me." She said self-consciously and Max smiled. 

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing that I liked you before I realized who you were." He said and Emily smiled shyly and tightened her grip of his arm. 

"How old are you Emily?" Max asked curious as to whether it was within the realm of possibility for him to see this girl socially. It never even occurred to him that age was not the only thing that could separate them. 

"I'm sixteen." She said and Max nodded as his mother came out onto the step and Megan ran out behind her and jumped into Max's arms. Max nodded making note of their three year difference and introduced Emily to his sister. 

"Miss Emily Burns, this is Miss Megan Cavanaugh." He said and Emily smiled at the little girl. 

"She's adorable Max, how old is she?" Emily asked playing with the ends of the child's long blond locks. 

"I'm 5…are you sure you're old enough to see my brother?" Megan asked innocently and Max rolled his eyes. 

"Are you sure you're old enough to be asking questions about things that don't concern you?" Max asked teasingly and put Megan down. He turned to the porch where his mother stood waiting to be introduced to Max's new friend. 

"Ah, Ma, this is…Emily Burns, I just sort of met her on my way…" Emily interjected and went right to the steps where Mrs. Cavanaugh stood. 

  
"Oh don't be silly Max, Mrs. Cavanaugh, your son here just about saved my life today!" Emily said and Mrs. Cavanaugh gasped. 

"Oh my goodness! What happened Max?" She said laying a hand on the girl's shoulder. 

"Ahhh…she was havin' some trouble with one of our local juvenile scum is all…anybody woulda done the same…" He said and patted his young sister's head. 

"Oh, you don't know how many people would have looked the other way, Max, not everyone in this city is as kind and helpful as you." She said with stars in her eyes and Mrs. Cavanaugh raised her eyebrows at Max. He shrugged and gave a goofy smile to his mother. 

"Well, Miss Burns, I imagine people are out looking for YOU by now…so why don't you come on in and rest yourself and you can give your father a call to come pick you up." Mrs. Cavanaugh said with a knowing smile. Having been a woman 'once upon a time' as she liked to say, Mrs. Cavanaugh could see that this poor little rich girl was the type who went for those downtown, rough neck, boys of which her charming heroic son was a part of. She suspected there would be talk about the city in the near future. 

'Yes,' she thought as the pretty young girl crept bashfully past Max to the door, ' talk indeed.' 

Boston: Present Day

"So what happened when her father came?" I asked wiping up the excess water that had dripped from the glasses I had just finished cleaning. Max threw his dishtowel under the counter and then grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. 

"Oh, he played the role of the thankful father. Very gracious and kind, thankful to me for helping his daughter. But I could tell that he wasn't happy with Emily at all. He stayed just long enough to make like he cared about the poor dock-working kid who was at the right place and right time to save his prodigal daughter. As they left, I winked at Emily. She knew it wouldn't be the last she'd see of me." 

Max rounded the bar and took a seat on a stool. I watched as he placed the glasses down and slowly turned the cap of the bottle off. He wordlessly filled both glasses halfway and I took the hint, joining him at the bar and taking one of the glasses. 

"So was it?" I asked with a smile as I took a small sip of the whiskey, letting it burn slowly down the back of my throat. I snuck a peek at my watch. It was quarter after ten. 

Max looked at the ceiling trying to remember what the last thing he said was. He remembered with a smile and glanced sideways at me. 

"Well, what do you think Casanova?" He asked with a smirk. He had caught me peeking at my watch. 

South Boston: 1960

It had been six months and a change in the decade before Max got the nerve to check up on how is damsel in distress was doing. He was trudging through the snow one January night, returning from the drug store with some medicine for his little sister, when his feet decided to take him uptown. He had passes by her house once or fifteen times since that summer, but this was the first time he ever ventured up the steps to the large mahogany front door. He gently lifted the polished silver doorknocker and knocked three times. A few seconds later Emily pulled open the door and smiled brightly. 

"Max! How are you!? I'm so glad you've finally come to the door…er… stopped by!" She said hurriedly and rushed me inside the house. Max smiled and turned down the collar of his coat and removed his hat. 

"I'm doin' okay…how have you been?" He asked glancing nervously around the house. 

Emily picked up on his hesitancy.   
"Oh you don't have to worry, he's not home…no one is actually." She said bashfully and nervously rubbed the back of her neck. Max raised his eyebrows, not sure what else to do and said, 

"Oh." There was a moment of awkward silence and then Emily invited Max to the kitchen for some coffee. He smiled sweetly and began to remove his coat. 

"I thought you'd never ask." He said and Emily took his coat with a chuckle. 

An hour later, the two still sat at the kitchen table, laughing and sharing stories of their very different lives. Max looked at his watch. 

"Well, I think I better be movin' on…my mother's probably got a search party out looking for me by now." Max said with a snort and stood from the table. Emily stood as well and they walked to the front door together. Emily took Max's coat from the rack and held it open for him. He smiled and slipped his arms in. When he turned to face Emily, she threw his scarf over his head, one hand holding onto each end. She didn't let go when it was on, just let her hands rest against his broad, adult chest. Max looked down into Emily's pretty hazel eyes and her lips curled into a seductive smile. Max cleared his throat. Emily just continued to hold onto the scarf. 

"Well, I…I hope it won't be another six months before I see you again Max." Emily said and Max leaned closer to her face. 

"I'll come any time you want…or any time you need…" He whispered in his deep voice. He leaned forward and Emily pulled on the scarf, forcing their cautious lips to meet. Max kissed her deeply, wrapping his arms around her petite frame. Emily's arms came up around Max's neck and her hands weaved through his short blonde hair. Emily pulled back first and through heavy breaths whispered, 

"You better hurry, I think I hear the search party bells ringing…"She said, her forehead resting against Max's. Max chuckled heavily through his own jagged breaths. 

"No, no…I think those bells are just in our heads." He said and pulled back to look into Emily's eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him quickly again. Max took her small face between his hands. 

"You know this is gonna cause a boat load a trouble if anyone finds out?" Max warned and Emily shook her head. 

"I don't care…do you?" she asked hesitantly and Max smiled. 

"Not worth a damn." He said confidently and pulled his hat over his head. Emily opened the door and Max turned back to Emily with a newfound comfort. He stepped forward and kissed her warm lips tenderly one last time. 

"Call me tomorrow?" Max asked walking backwards down her front steps. Emily bit her lip and smiled. Max narrowed his eyes playfully at her and she nodded enthusiastically. He waved and took off running down the street as soon as Emily closed the door. 

Max calmed himself down before entering his house. 

"Max is that you!?" His mother called from upstairs as he slowly closed the front door. 

"Yeah, Ma, it's me." Max called back as he began to remove his coat and scarf.   
"Bring that medicine here! You're poor little sister can hardly breathe through her nose!" Mrs. Cavanaugh yelled from the upstairs. Max palmed the bottle of cough syrup and bounded for the staircase. Then he caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped mid jump to wipe the lipstick off his face. 

When he turned back to the stairs his father was standing at the foot of the staircase, a folded newspaper in his hand, which he was pretending to read. Max stood frozen, watching as a bemused smirk crept to his father's lips. 

"MAXWELL!" Mrs. Cavanaugh hollered and He quickly replied. 

"I'm Coming!" and hurried for the first step. 

"So's February!" little Megan's nasally voice called down. As Max hurried past his father he heard him quietly say, 

"Nice perfume, son." 

  
Max stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back at his father with a smile. His father raised and eyebrow and finally looked from the paper up to his oldest son. 

They shared a moment of understanding before Max's mother called for him once again and he strolled, lighter than air into his sister's room. 

The next Friday was the last Friday of the month and the only Friday Max ever had off of work. He lounged around the house paging through some law enforcement books he had been taking interest in and imagined how he might look in a police uniform. Hell, he wondered if with his juvenile reputation the police force would even let him walk in the academy doors without patting him down. He glanced at the phone for the hundredth time in a few hours and sighed. 

"Expecting a call?" his father asked from the couch where he had been sitting since he came home from work 15 minutes earlier. Max cleared his throat. 

"Uh-huh." He said casually and continued to flip through a book. His father nodded his head and suppressed a smile. 

"So…ahhh….you getting pretty serious with this girl Max?" His father asked finally looking over to his son silently demanding the young man's full attention. Max put his book aside and shook his head. 

"Ah, I dunno Pop. We  haven't even gone out yet, I …I just went over her house the other day and ya know…" Max said and he could feel the blush rising to his cheeks. 

His father finished the sentence for him. "…Necked a little?" he said and Max nodded. His father shook his head and smiled up at a picture of he and Max's mother in their early 20's and shook his head. 

"Youth is wasted on the young…" He said shaking his head with a nostalgic smile. Max looked at the picture and smiled. 

"I'm working on it Pop, it's just…it's a tough situation." Max said and picked up one of the books again. His father nodded. 

"Tough enough to keep you from runnin' over her house the second you put that receiver down?" He asked glancing between Max and the Pats playoff game. Max smiled and looked at his father out of the corner of his eye. 

"Nah." He said and the phone rang as if on cue. Max lunged for it. But little Megan popped out of no where and snatched it first. 

"Hello?" she said running in circles with the cord wrapping around Max. Their father wasn't watching, but Max knew the older man's focus was not on the game his eyes were watching. 

"Guess who?" a sweet, honey smooth voice asked teasingly. Megan rolled her eyes and held out the phone. 

"It's for you Maxy Max…it's Emily…AGAIN!" She said and Maxed snatched the receiver and pushed his little sister onto the lounge chair and sat on her. 

"Oh, Hey…" he said unwinding himself and only half paying attention to the squealing child under his back side. he looked at his feet as if Emily were standing right there in front of him. 

"What are you doing?" Emily asked casually and Max deadpanned. 

"Sitting on Megan." He said and Emily scolded him and he got up letting Megan scurry to her father's lap. 

"So…my parents have this alumni banquet to go to on Sunday…and…I have to go to it." Emily said sadly and Max laughed. 

"Wow, I''m sorry to hear that…I'm sure it must be a drag to have to get dressed up in something a year of my paycheck couldn't afford and eat hot delicious food cooked by the best chef's in the city." Max said teasingly and Emily laughed. 

"Oh, well then I guess you wouldn't wanna join me at this fancy-shmancy banquet then huh?" Emily teased back and Max was silent.   
"Max?" Emily said cautiously. "Are you there?" 

"Yeah, uhhh….no that…that sounds great…I don't think I have anything appropriate to we.." Emily cut him off. 

"Just come over my house around 5 on Sunday, my parents are going to be at the banquet early. I don't have to show up until around 7." She said and Max hesitantly agreed. 

  
There was a moment of quiet as Max uncomfortably imagined trying to fit in with Emily's crowd. 

"You'll do fine don't worry…" She said reassuringly and Max gave an unsure 'okay'. 

"So…"Emily said searching for another subject. "Were you waiting by the phone all day?" she asked and Max could hear the smile in her voice. 

  
"Nah…just…you know…half or so…"He said and Emily reminded him that he might do better to wait until after 2:30 when her high school let out.   
  


"Oh…yeah…forgot about that." Max said and Emily laughed. 

"So…"Max said warily and picked at a loose thread on the couch. 

"So…" Emily mocked and Max could hear the smile in her voice. "You coming over now or what?" she blurted out suddenly and Max smiled widely. 

"Sure…I mean…yeah….ah, yes, yes I can do that." Max said and Emily chuckled. "I'll be there in a little." He said and after a last chuckle Emily said see you then and hung up the phone. Max held the receiver to his ear a little longer and then slammed it down. He turned to his father who was holding out the house keys. 

"Don't wake us up when you come in." He said and Max grabbed the keys with a 'thanks Pop' as he ran out the front door. 

"Boy you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on!" Max heard his father yell as he bounded off the last step to the house and spun on his heels. His father was standing on the porch, a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth and holding Max's coat out to him. Max reached out for the coat to be thrown to him and his dad smiled and threw it to him. 

"Thanks Pop." Max yelled again and took off power walking down the street. His father yelled you're welcome and shook his head amused before walking back into the house. 

Emily was waiting on the front porch when Max got to her house. She met him at the bottom of the steps and he stepped up so that his feet were right at the edge of the bottom step. Emily leaned forward and placed her lips softly on Max's. He smiled against her lips and she smiled back against his. She looked around at the neighbor's houses and then smiled at Max and hopped down onto the sidewalk. He offered her his arm and she took his hand instead. 

"So where are we going?" Max asked as he let Emily take over leading the way down the spotless street. 

"I thought we might go look at a nice suit for you." Emily said as they headed into a section where high priced merchandise and clothing lined the windows of every store. 

"oh, but…well I can't afford the stuff in these places…I'll just…" Emily cut him off. 

"Swallow your pride Cavanaugh…we'll call this payback for you saving my innocence." Max smiled and wagged his eyes. 

"Only to take it away at a later time…"He said playfully and Emily swatted his arm. 

"Yeah, we'll see…if you keep talking like that." Emily said and Max bent to kiss her. He felt a swell of pride when she didn't even glance around to make sure no one was looking before kissing him. 

They continued to walk and Emily stopped in front of a men's store and pointed out a suit in the window. Max smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Emily rolled her eyes and pulled him into the store. 

The manager recognized Emily immediately and offered his hand to Max. 

"And who's your friend?" the nicely dressed manager asked offering a strong hand to Max. 

"Mr. Winters, this is my boyfriend Max Cavanaugh." Max wasn't prepared for the title he had been given and smiled goofily at Emily as he reached for the man's hand.   
  
"Oh! Well, nice to meet you Max, you've found a wonderful little lady here." He said taking note of Max's clothes and rough worker's hands. Max just smiled away at him, his infectious all-American boy smile getting the best of the shop owner. 

"So what can I do for you today Miss Burns?" the man asked with the not-so-genuine enthusiasm of someone just looking to make a buck. 

"Well, we've come looking for the perfect suit for Max to wear to the Alumni dinner this weekend." Emily said holding more tightly to Max's hand. She pulled herself close to him and Max smiled politely. 

"Well! Then you've come to the right place! Why don't you come with me Miss Burns and I'll sit you down over here where you can take a look at your beau in all the wonderful suits he's going to try on!" The man said pulling Max's coat off as they headed toward a curtained dressing area. 

"Suit-S?" Max said emphasizing the plural form the word had taken as he disappeared behind the curtain and Emily laughed. 

"So, whadda ya think of this one my dear?" Max said standing tall and strolling toward Emily like he was on a runway. Emily laughed and the manager tried not to look appalled at Max's butchering of the English language. He took the coat off and threw it over his shoulder, the dark burgundy tie swishing back and forth across his chest as he did so. Emily chuckled and nodded her head approvingly. 

"You look very handsome, Max." She said and nodded to the manager that this was the suit they would be taking. 

"Did you see the look on the priss's face when he got a look at me!?" Max said as he and Emily strolled down the street back to her house laughing like school children. Emily nodded, wiping her eyes to get rid of the tears of laughter there. 

When they reached Emily's porch, Max looked up into the living room window. Emily's father was standing there watching them together. He puffed on a pipe between glaring at his daughter's new boyfriend. Max watched him and raised an eyebrow.

"He looks like Sherlock Holmes." Max said with a grin and Emily smiled.   
"Ignore him, he ignores me most of the time anyway so why should he care who I see?" She said wrapping her arms around Max's middle and laying her head on his chest. Max pulled back a little and lifted her chin. He smiled and bent his head down to her and kissed her lips tenderly. When he pulled back Emily whispered. 

"4 o'clock." And then opened her eyes and smiled. 

"What?" Max asked confused and furrowed his light brow. 

"I'd said to come over at 5 on Sunday…but…come over at 4…" She said and Max smiled knowingly. He nodded and kissed her one last time, her father's glare nearly burning a hole in the back of his head and walked off down the street. Emily watched him go then turned unhappily toward her front door, knowing that she was going to face her father's wraith as soon as she entered.


	4. Escape

Chapter 4: Escape 

Boston: Present Day

"Man, oh man…" I said shaking my head. "Now I know where Jordan got that forward, get-what-I-want attitude." I said and looked over at Max who was staring me down in much the same way as he had during the sting last year when I made a certain 'hot damn!'-like comment about Jordan in a little red dress. And once again, I tripped over my words. 

"Not that I'm in any way trying to dishonor the memory of your wife or..or…shaming Jordan…I just…" Max smiled. 

"It's alright son, I know what you meant to say, my wife always had a certain charm about her…which Jordan very rightly picked up within a matter of hours after being born." Max said with a smile. 

"Emily could talk me into just about anything…" he said and I allowed myself a cautious smile. "Problem was…" Max said with a coy, nostalgic smile, "what she was usually talking me into was trouble." 

Boston: 1960

On Sunday, Max was at Emily's 4 o'clock on the dot. 

"Howdy ma'am." Max said smiling and giving his worst cowboy impression. Emily rolled her eyes and pulled him inside the door. 

"Anybody home?" Max said glancing briefly around the house. Emily giggled. 

"Guess not." Max said playfully and cornered Emily inside the foyer. He pressed his body against her and rubbed her cheek with his nose.

"mmmmm…..you're cold." Emily said chucking. 

"So why don't you warm me up?" Max asked and let an icy cold hand slide up the outside of her thy under her skirt. Emily squealed and slipped under Max's armpit, scurrying up the stairs. 

Max removed his coat and stuffed his scarf and gloves inside the coat pockets before bounding up the carpeted steps two at a time. He swung around the doorway to Emily's room. 

"Where you at Girlie?" he asked teasing as his eyes searched the room. Then he noticed the bathroom door in her room was ajar and steam was steadily beginning to seep out. Max strolled quietly to the door and pushed it slowly open. He smiled. He could make out Emily's naked form behind the frosted glass door. 

"Any room in there for me?" Max asked pulling his blue knit sweater hopefully over his head. 

"You stay where you are sir! I want to get clean!" she called over the rush of water and Max felt the sudden heat of desire through the humid little room. 

"Awww….come on…kill joy." He said and stumbled backwards out of the room, flopping down on Emily's soft, flowery, canopy bed. He sighed and preoccupied himself with letting his eyes adjust to the glare in the room caused by the late afternoon sun bouncing off of the deep New England snow. 

A few minutes later, Emily exited the bathroom in a fluffy white towel, a matching one wrapped around her head making her look like the Queen of Sheba. 

Max smiled and pulled himself up on his elbows. His tight, labor-made muscles flexing as he did so. Emily bit her lip as she looked over his tight six pack stomach and creamy-looking white Irish skin. She smiled coyly and backed into the bathroom. Max sprung forward.

 "Oh no you don't…I want to get clean!" Max said heightening his voice in a mocking way and gently guiding Emily out of the bathroom. She laughed and went to her bed and turned when Max's Dockers hit the floor outside the door with a thud. She shook her head when she noticed his boxers were still inside the pants. 

Max was in the shower briefly and when he exited the bathroom in a white towel, he was surprised to see Emily sitting on her bed, still wrapped in a towel but her nearly black long hair lying freely around her shoulders. She smiled at Max. He looked down at the bed and his suit was laying out all ready for him to put on.  

  
"Thanks mom." Max said teasingly and ran a hand through his long blonde bangs, slicking them back. 

He walked over to the bed and Emily sat up on her knees, the towel loosening just enough to make Max pray for a breeze in the airtight room. Emily smiled and looked between Max and the suit and back again. He looked around the floor and snatched his boxers out of the pants he had worn over and when he looked back at Emily, she was staring, almost unabashedly at his towel. He hadn't realized until just that moment, and just as Emily's adolescent, curious eyes narrowed at the slit in his towel, that she had never seen a man naked before. He tried not to let on that he realized this but he was sure his posture and expression changed. 

Max silently cursed himself for forgetting in his worldliness, that Emily was indeed still a very sheltered girl. He wondered briefly if she had ever even kissed a boy before. If she hadn't, she had him fooled. Since he met her he had always assumed her to be a…worldly person. Emily looked up at his face and just as her brow was about to furrow and her lips pursed to ask what was wrong, Max casually dropped his towel and walked to his suit on the bed. He stepped into his underwear and as he pulled them up, he snuck a peek at Emily whose cheeks were giving away a telltale blush. Max ignored it but smiled to himself before picking up a clean white sleeveless undershirt and pulling it over his head. Emily nervously picked up the suit pants and handed them to Max. 

He nodded a thank you and pulled them up, fastening them with a shiny black belt. Emily stood from the bed, tightening the towel around her and picked up the crisp white dress shirt. She held it open and Max smiled appreciatively and slipped his arms into the sleeves. He looked down as he buttoned the sleeve and Emily reached out slowly and took the wrist that hadn't been buttoned. Max smiled as she fastened the button and remained holding his hand. She turned it over and ran her fingers over the deep lines of his palms. A chill ran down Max's spine and he stepped closer to Emily and laid his hands on her shoulders. She looked up and smiled at him, before reaching and straightening the collar of the shirt. 

Then she let her hands travel slowly down his collarbones and across his broad chest, the ripples in the tight undershirt causing her fingertips to make a soft sliding noise as they traveled. 

Max let his own hands travel down Emily's soft, shower warm arms and he toyed with the edge of the towel. Emily instinctually arched towards his touch and Max took that as permission to let his hand slip under the edge of the towel and lay his hand on the soft skin of her hip. Emily laid her hand on Max's forearm and guided it up her hip, over the curve of her waist and steadied it against the outer curve of her breast. With her eyes she gave him silent permission, and Max used his long middle finger to release the corner of the towel that was tucked in and holding it onto her body. 

The towel fell to the floor without a sound and Max's hand traveled around her soft back as he pulled Emily to his body. When her naked body was pressed against him, Max noticed that he could probably almost button his shirt with her in it. Emily wrapped her arms around Max's middle and he dropped onto his backside on the bed. He was much too tall to explore her standing up. Emily stood in front of him, unsure of what to do. Max reached out and took her hands, pulling her to him and Emily protested. 

"Max…" She said and he looked slowly up into her eyes. Emily crossed her arms self-consciously across her chest. "I don't want us to…What I mean is…we still have to go to…" She stuttered nervously and Max just smiled and looked down at the floor. He was actually appreciative that she was stopping him now before he got too far. Emily misinterpreted his looking at the floor as disappointment. Max bent and picked up her towel as Emily continued to explain what Max already knew. 

"Here…go get ready so we can get there a little earlier…" He said and Emily smiled shyly as she wrapped herself back in the towel. She bent forward and captured Max's lips. Then she pulled back and walked over to her dresser where she pulled out a bra, panties and a slip. Max smiled as she scurried into the bathroom and exited a few moments later, the silky slip swishing across her. 

Boston: Present Day 

"So…….?" I asked leaning on my hands, sitting on the edge of my stool at the bar as Max continued to tell me his story. He looked at me, his brow furrowed in feigned confusion. 

"So….what, Woodrow?" Max asked raising a familiar eyebrow at me. I must have looked like a child with a lollipop dangling just out of my reach. 

"So…" I said choosing my words carefully. "did you…well…I mean…you said that…did ya…what happened after you chased her up the stairs and you saw her bathroom door open?" I asked after I noticed Max had been staring off into his own little world for the past several minutes.

He smiled then looked over at me appalled. 

"Whadda ya mean did ya? Mind your own bees wax Hoyt!" he said and took a swig of his drink. 

"Uh…yes…yes sir." I said and returned my head to resting on my folded arms. 

Boston:1960

"I think you should go like that." Max said playfully as he buttoned his shirt and tied the burgundy tie. Emily smiled and raised an eyebrow at Max. She went to her closet and took out the dress she was going to wear and looked it over. Max watched as she regarded the dress for several minutes. 

"You okay, sweetheart?" Max asked and Emily slowly placed the dress back in the closet and turned to face him. She was smiling sadly. 

"Screw him." She said bluntly and with a Boston accent that Max was sure was hiding just under the surface of her well-spoken upbringing. Max's eyes widened and he froze in mid tie.   
"Huh?" he asked dumbfounded and Emily reached behind her and closed the closet door. 

"I said…" Emily said as she moved slowly across the room towards Max. "Screw him." She said again as she stepped right in front of Max and took a hold of the tie. 

"He can't run my life forever…I'm not a child anymore…"She looked disgustedly towards the closet where she had just put her dress back. "I'm not a doll that he can just…just dress up and parade around when he wants." She said and loosened the tie from Max's neck before pulling it gently over his head. She traced his jaw with her fingertips. 

"I'm not going…we're not going. I want…I want to stay here…with you…I want to be with you." She said as she slowly unbuttoned Max's dress shirt. He watched her face, wanting to make sure that she knew what she was agreeing to. 

"Emily…I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything just cause I'm older and…" She placed a finger on my lips and then replaced it with her own lips. 

"He's gonna kill me if he comes home and I'm here having…" Emily silenced him again and gently pushed him backwards until Max tripped on the foot of the box spring and fell onto the bed. Emily straddled his knee and Max pulled the satin slip over her head, discarding it on the floor by some stuffed animals. 

"Well, what am I gonna do with this suit now that we're…"She cut him off. 

"I'm sure we'll find something." Emily said teasing and unbuckled the belt at Max's waist.

Around 9 o'clock, Max lay in Emily's bed on his side. He knew he should leave but he couldn't. It would be nothing but trouble if he was caught in her room, but his brain and his feet just couldn't come to any sort of agreement. He watched her sleep, the rise and fall of her chest moving in time with his heartbeat. She rolled onto her side and a bare leg wrapped around Max's sliding up and down. He felt a sudden rush of excitement and Emily awoke almost as if she had felt the wave of heat from his body. She smiled and snuggled closer to him. Max wrapped her in his arms and they rested their foreheads together. He began running his hands up and down Emily's back softly and it caused her to stir against him. One more minute, one more hour, a lifetime and then he'd leave…

Without a word, Max rolled Emily to her back and held himself over her by leaning on the mattress with his elbows. He ran his knuckles across her cheek and whispered, 

"I love you." Emily's eyes filled up and she looked away. 

"No one's ever…ever…said that to me before." She said and then whispered it back to Max. He bent his chin forward and kissed her nose and her lips and her eyelids and just as he was settling himself between her legs, they heard the front door being angrily opened. 

"EMILY!" Her father bellowed up the stairs. Max leapt from the bed, stark naked and ran to her door, pushing it shut and locking it.  His heart lodged in his throat as he turned to see Emily's pale, frightened face staring back at him. He wished he could wrap her back in his arms and tell her he'd keep her safe. But he knew that wasn't realistic. He was no match for her father and his connections. He could hear Emily's mother begging her husband to stop as he tore up the stairs in a rage. Max grabbed his underwear and pulled it on as he hopped across the room back to Emily. She sat up in bed, the sheets gathered around her and Max threw her some clothes to put on. He could already tell that she was crying quietly. 

"It's gonna be alright, Em." He said pulling on his undershirt and sweater before shakily pulling on his Dockers. 

"Emily, sweetheart, you've gotta get dressed!" Max whispered nervously as he pushed the clothes closer to her. Emily only trembled, frozen with fear. Wax was torn. Would he actually hurt her? Had he done it before? Emily's head snapped as she heard her father's voice right outside her door. 

"Emily! Is HE here!? Is that bastard little street rat Mc here with you!!?" he began to pound on the door, and for the first time, Max was surprised to hear the familiar tongue of a born a raised Southie boy coming out of Harvard's headmaster. "Is that what you want?! To be his little street rat whore for the rest of your life?! To throw away a better life for love?! Cause let me tell you girl!! Love doesn't mean nothin' when he can't feed all those little Catholic brats you'll give him!" Max was drowning out her father by this point. He went to Emily's window and threw it open. There was a fire escape. Emily was dressed and beside him in seconds, angry tears streaming down her face. Her father was silent for a few seconds, probably catching his breath and slicking back his oily black hair even while humiliating his daughter, pretending to be the high classed man that he so obviously wasn't. 

"I'm coming with you." She said stubbornly and Max nodded. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Max said and offered her his hand. Emily ran back to the bed and gathered the pieces of Max's suit as well as a small velvet red purse from under her bed. 

"EMILY!!" her father screamed again pounding on the door so hard Max thought it might actually bust open.   
Emily returned to the window and Max pulled her up to the sill with him. She took one last look around her room, at the rumpled sheets on her pretty pink bed and then followed Max out onto the fire escape. They made it a point to move slowly and not let on to her father, still screaming from the other side of the door, that they had gone. As they got to the first story of the house, Emily stopped suddenly when she saw her mother only feet from her, on the other side of the window. She had one hand pressed against the glass, tears ran down her cheeks and the light from the hall illuminated her short blonde hair. Max looked away as Emily laid her hand on the glass where her mother's was before taking Max's hand with the other and giving her mother one last look before they jumped from the fire escape to the grass. Max slowly opened the iron gate door that surrounded Emily's home. When Max closed the door behind him, it creaked and then slammed with a groan. It caught Emily's father's attention. He ran down the steps to the middle level of the house and hung out the large bay window. 

  
"If you're leaving, then that's IT little girl!! Don't ever come back to this house again! Go live in the sewer with your rat!!" he yelled as the young lovers ran down the block towards South Boston. He continued to watch them run as they became smaller and smaller and eventually turned off the long street and headed downtown. Only then did Cornelius Burns lay his head down upon his arms on the windowsill and cry. 

Boston: Present Day 

"Wow." I said dumbfounded as Max stopped talking. He nodded and threw back the last of his whiskey. 

"Yeah." He said in a hiss as the power of the drink hit him. 

"Wow." I said again and Max nodded his head slowly a few times. 

"Yeah." He said again and I shook my head. 

"So…what did you…then what?" I asked and Max let out a sigh. 

"Well, Emily came to live with my family, she slept in a separate bed, mind you, she was only going on 17…" He said and trailed off. 

"And?…" I asked eagerly. Max looked sideways at me. 

"And what Woodrow, we made it work. We spent the next two years living in my house with my family…and….then…Max said and a bright smile spread across his face. 

"We found something to do with that suit she bought me." He said and I lifted my head from my arms. 

Boston: 1963

"You may now kiss the bride." Father Frank Cavanaugh proclaimed with a wink as his older brother smiled and dipped his bride for a kiss. 

The wedding guests clapped and Max gently took off his police hat and held it at his side as he dipped Emily backwards and kissed her passionately. 

"Hey, come up for air there pal." Frank said leaning forward and Max flopped his hat onto Frank's head. 

Max righted his wife and turned to Frank. 

"How come I let you resign over my wedding?" Max asked with a smile and winked back at his 20 year – old - brother. He still couldn't believe that little Frankie had become a priest. Except that it had made sense that he of all the Cavanaugh children would be the one most in need of thanking his maker since the cold winter night he had been stabbed. 

"Cause I'm your little brother and just about the only Catholic priest in Boston that would marry you two with a big belly between you at the altar." He said and Emily teasingly slapped Frank's arm. She rested the other hand on her swollen belly and then stood on her toes to kiss Max again. 

They turned to the guests as Frank announced them. 

"I present to you by the Catholic church and the commonwealth of Massachusetts, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell and Emily Cavanaugh!" He leaned next to Emily's ear and whispered. 

"You're one of us now Girlie!" Frank said and kissed her cheek Emily and Max walked down the aisle and out to the steps where the force was standing along the steps prepared to litter the couple with rice. Max placed his hat back on his head and he and Emily dodged rice as they ran to their car and jumped into the back seat. 

"Let's go driver! I wanna go change into my best suit for the reception!" Max said slapping his brother Davey on the back. Davey rolled his eyes and pulled out onto the street and headed back to the family house. 

Back at the house, Max stood in front of the full length mirror in his room and looked over his suit one last time. He adjusted the burgundy tie. 

"Emily! You almost ready to go!" he hollered down the hall to his young wife. 

"Yes, Max, you just have to give me a minute, peeing has become an Olympic event since I got pregnant!" She called back angrily. Max cringed. Since she was carrying the baby, Emily could not take the mood stabilizing pills that had been prescribed to her months ago. Something very bad was happening to Emily's mind, but Max was hopelessly devoted. 

Boston: Present Day 

"Wow. So…she was already having problems that young…and I assume…she was already having an affair with Captain Malden?" I said slowly, not sure even as the words came out of my mouth that it was the right thing to say. 

Max sighed heavily. "Like I said…whatever she did out of sickness…it was forgivable." I shook my head. 

" I don't think I could ever deal with something like that…it would have hurt me too deeply to forgive something like that." I said looking upon Max with a newfound respect. 

He shook his head sadly. "Just because I was forgiving didn't make it any less hurtful. I loved her more than anything in the world. Yeah, it was tough. The mood swings, the times when she tried to hurt herself…the times when she tried to hurt others…but we pulled through it. We were actually doin' pretty good for a while there…we had Jordan we had each other…we'd been through too much to just throw away what we had. There were so many complex complicated problems in our lives…and then…there was just us. Just the Princess of the West side and the Watchdog of South Boston." Something seemed to strike Max's fancy and he cleared his throat. 

"You know…as a kid when I was thieving about and headin' towards a life of crime, I never believed in things like faith, fate, true love, or predestined paths." Max looked along the bar. 

"But now…on the night I woulda been married to Emily for 40 years…I'm looking back and remembering all of these things that led to right here….right now, and all of those things I thought of as silly like faith and true love and predestined paths…they ah, they don't seem so silly anymore. Tonight I thought about my brother, who lives down in New York and teaches at a Catholic boys school and I know that everyone needs a little faith in their life. I think of the night I decided to become a cop and Blackie chose to become…a robber and I know that I never would have met Emily and I wouldn't have the beautiful daughter I have today…and I know that I married my one true love. And now it's got me thinking of what your predestined path is Woody. Whether you have a little faith. A path you're following blindly and knowing your heart's gonna lead you the right way…" he said and I sighed narrowing my eyes and debating on whether I wanted to ask the question on the tip of my tongue. 

"What about fate and true love?" I asked and cringed at how much I sounded like one of those crazy people who pay palm readers 20 dollars a minute to tell their fortunes. 

"Well…" Max said looking across the room to the door where Jordan was standing just inside, watching us hesitantly with a smile playing across her lips. "funny you should mention that cause I was just wondering whether it was fate that my little girl, for whom you have been truly and accurately 'struck by the thunderbolt', should finish her shift just in time to walk into my bar as we're discussing such topics as fate and…and….ahh…"Max said pretending to lose his train of thought. I decided to play along. 

"True love." I said quietly and looked across the room to Jordan. She offered me an almost shy smile. 

Max smiled and slapped a hand down on the counter. "Yep! That was the one!" he exclaimed exuberantly and patted me on the back. He followed my gaze to Jordan. 

"True love." He said again and laughed. Jordan stood waiting, her hands in her pockets on the step inside the door. 

"I'll see ya later Max." I said and pulled my coat on as I walked towards the door. 

"Yeah, yeah…see ya later." Max mumbled quickly as he busied himself with cleaning the bar for the 50th time that night. I strolled to the door, almost face to face with Jordan as she stood on the step. I stopped at the step just so my feet were right at the edge of it. Before Jordan could say a word, I leaned forward and captured her lips with mine. She was surprised but didn't protest. Finally she laid a hand on my chest and pulled back to look in my eyes. I expected some inquiry into my actions but Jordan just smiled and looked at me curiously. 

Jordan looked around the bar briefly and let her eyes stop on her father who was pretending like he was the only one in the room. She looked back to me and I hopped up onto the step with her. I offered her my arm but she took my hand instead. 

"Goodnight Dad." She said raising an eyebrow at him as I opened the door for her. 

"Goodnight Sweetheart." Max said lifting the stools we were sitting on up onto the bar. 

I threw Max a smile over my shoulder. 

"Goodnight Pop." I said smiling and flipped my bangs out of my eyes as the wind whipped them forward. Max chuckled and shooed us off. 

"Goodnight Casanova." He said and Jordan and I walked up the stairs together. 

"So where are we going?" I asked as we hit the sidewalk and I let Jordan lead the way down the street. 

"How bout we stop at North and South's…and grab some heartburn in a pita to go and take it back to my place." I made a noise of mock surprise. 

"Weird! That's just what I was thinking." I said with a coy smile and Jordan wrapped her arm around my waist as I pulled her closer to me and we continued down the dark, quiet street. 

                  THE END 


End file.
